Moriarty's Musician

Music of the Mind, Part 4

Moriarty was seething as his grip tightened on Annabelle's arm. As they walked, his fingertips dug into her skin, but she refused to let him know how much he was hurting her.

Annabelle couldn't get the encounter with Nicky and the two women out of her mind. She could hardly believe what she had said to Lady Byron. What was wrong with her? Lady Byron had made her so angry and the awful things Annabelle accused her of just seemed to appear in her mind.

And Nicky... he didn't stop scowling at her the entire time. He was obviously happy with the gorgeous Miss Standfield and seeing her probably reminded him of how much he hated her. She had rejected his love and almost had him killed. Annabelle's head started to pound as they continued to walk.

Moriarty took her to the end of the foyer and positioned her behind a pillar that blocked them from the crowd. He pushed her shoulders up against the marble and leaned into her, studying her. He didn't speak as his eyes probed her face. Annabelle didn't flinch as she met his eyes. After several long minutes, Moriarty chuckled, tantalized by her defiance. He touched her exposed collarbone with his thumb and traced its outline. With his other hand, he firmly lifted her chin until her neck was straight and taut. He continued up her creamy white throat until his thumb came to her larynx.

"Do you know, Annabelle, you have one of the most beautiful necks I've ever seen." He stared at her throat and stroked the spot where his thumb rested.

With her head tilted, Annabelle looked up at the chandelier that seemed to sway to the music from the string quartet. As the light twinkled, the cacophony of voices lessened and she could only hear the music of her mind. While the musicians played, she could see folders of faces and facts. Her tutor was handing them to her to review. Knowledge is power, he said. Using that knowledge will make you invincible, he said. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. He said she was doing very well.

The string quartet took a break and the music ended. Annabelle serenely lowered her head and looked at Moriarty.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked.

"Yes," he whispered, still stroking her skin.

She grabbed his hand and pressed it harder into her throat. "Then get it over with. I hate you and I hate this person I'm becoming!"

For the first time in a very long time, James Moriarty couldn't speak. All he could do was stare at her as his hand dropped from her throat. He had only meant to scare her into obedience. He touched her cheek and she slapped his hand away as she glared at him.

"Don't touch me again unless you're prepared to kill me."

He stepped back and studied her. It was like a different person speaking through her. Annabelle turned from him, tired of his silent critique and started walking towards the brass doors they had entered through.

As she pushed her way through the crowd, the drone of voices became louder and the many faces around her began to blur. She could hardly catch her breath as dizziness began to consume her. She tripped and Moriarty was there; his arm encircled her waist, preventing her fall. He looked at her with concern. "Annabelle, can you walk?"

Annabelle didn't answer as she tried to fight the searing waves of pain that were taking over her head. She leaned heavily on him and he practically carried her out of the building. Within a minute, the black sedan pulled up and Moriarty helped Annabelle into the waiting car.

Annabelle grimaced in agony as the door shut. She leaned her head on the back of the seat, trying desperately not to be sick. Moriarty quickly got into the seat beside her and signaled to Sebastian to drive. Taking off his jacket, he rolled it up and placed it on his lap.

"Here, love, put your head on my lap and try to sleep."

Annabelle could only manage to turn her head towards the window in a weak protest.

Moriarty sighed as he gently pulled her shoulders down. It only took a little resistance before her aching head was resting on his lap. He gently removed each of her hair pins and ran his fingers through her tresses and over her temple. The scent of lilacs was intoxicating as he smoothed her hair off her neck and gently stroked her skin. Within a minute, he could tell she was asleep by the rhythmic rise and fall of her shoulders. He continued to run his fingers through the silkiness of her hair and he marveled at how relaxed she made him feel. The black sedan stopped too soon on Baker Street.

"Seb, call William and tell him to get the house ready." He stroked Annabelle's temple and neck again. "We're going to have a guest."

~~~~~~~

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'Moriarty's Musician'.
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